The family farm is the foundation for who we are as a Commonwealth. And for over a century, the family farm in Kentucky has centered around one crop: tobacco. ~Jim Bunning
Even if the biggest garden you ever tended was the size of a postage stamp and you only grew tomatoes, you know how much labor is involved. And however you feel about tobacco, you have to admit that the image above reflects well-tended, healthy plants. You may not know the part of tobacco’s volatile history that is entirely unrelated to health hazards. Well, let me walk that back. There were health hazards in growing tobacco, but they had nothing to do with cancer. Or sore muscles. Read on.
It all started with Nick and Viola
No, I never knew them, but I feel as if I did. Nick and Viola is a book written by Laura Derr, and the people mentioned are her great-grandparents. While the author’s intent was to bring her family’s story to light, an introduction to the Tobacco Wars was an integral part of that narrative. The tale begins without any presage of disaster on the horizon. A young couple meets, gets married and children arrive. In abundance. Life is hard, but the family gets by with the help of geographically close family and neighbors. The word “hard” in this context translates differently from our current definition. It is difficult to learn a new language or play an instrument. It is hard to scrape out a living with your hands, your family’s help, and maybe a mule.
That hard life in rural Kentucky became much harder when the American Tobacco Company’s grip on pricing rose to the level of a monopoly. Many farms pooled their bargaining power, but some independents held out, and the Muntz family was one of those. Their farm was among several properties that were visited by night riders when they refused to join the movement to challenge ATC’s pricing levels. And, no, the night riders weren’t there to egg the house or teepee the trees. On the first visit they might simply threaten action, and do no more, but it always escalated if a farmer didn’t capitulate. They destroyed growing crops and burned barns full of tobacco hanging from the rafters. In some cases, they shot the farmers who resisted.
And no, none of Derr’s ancestors died at the night rider’s hands. Not directly. The outcome was much worse, but you will find no spoilers here. You’ll need to read the book. I am simply passing along historical information.
Emotions were running high in those times, and that’s understandable, considering the investment of labor and the dependency many farmers had on tobacco crop proceeds to pay off debts and buy food for the winter. People on both sides were desperate and didn’t behave rationally. This problem wasn’t resolved, according to Kentucky Monthly, until 1908 when the Kentucky State Guard caught and arrested some of the night riders. Popular support for the group subsequently waned. In 1911, the Supreme Court determined ATC was an illegal monopoly and forced it to split, which helped to stabilize pricing. By the 1930s, regulations were in place that allocated maximum numbers of acres/poundage each farm could assign to tobacco production. This plan prevented over-production, and that was an additional factor in price stabilization.
A few of the tasks required to make a tobacco crop on a small farm circa 1900
- Establish seedbeds and plant seeds so tiny that 300,000-400,000 of them weigh only an ounce.
- Nurture these plantings until they’re large enough to set in rows in the field, a task that requires 3-4 days for 3-4 people working as a crew.
- Manually hoe and weed.
- Sucker the growing plants to focus energy and growth on the existing leaves.*
- Remove tobacco hornworms, which could consume a whole leaf in one day.
And this is all before the harvesting, hanging, drying, stripping, and getting the product to market.
*This process is much like (perhaps identical to?) suckering tomatoes where you remove lateral growth from the stem.
And a more current tobacco raising experience
Back in the 90s, in St. Louis, I worked with an underwriter whose father continued to produce tobacco as a cash crop even then. Like the Muntz’s, Deanna’s family farm was also rural and mid-state. After Derr’s book piqued my interest, I called my old (much younger) friend to see what she remembered of those days. Looks like the methods hadn’t changed much for small family farms from one end of the 20th century into the next, at least regarding the inclusion of children as forced labor. Deanna has fond memories of that time. Nah.
While the whole family was normally involved in tobacco production as late as the 20th century, mechanized processes could only do so much.
- The plantings taken from the hotbed had to be kept moist until set.
- Setting the plants was a 3-person job, even with-20th century tools.
- Once the tobacco leaves were cured, the stalks were pulled off the sticks and loaded into piles in the wagon, then taken to the stripping shed to pull the leaves off.
- After stripping the stalk, the leaves had to be divided by color/grade and then baled.
There is one thing I realized in our call that I haven’t seen in the online resources about tobacco. The methods used in Kentucky might not duplicate those used in Missouri or Virginia. If you watch the video below, you’ll see a demo of the leaves being bound together with string and hung over crossbars. That isn’t how it was done everywhere. Here’s how Deanna remembers it:
We cut the whole stalk down in the field and then shove a stick in the ground to stand it up then put a sharp “spear” on the top of the stick. We could spear about 5 stalks on one stick. We’d then load the sticks with the tobacco on a wagon and take them to the barn. We would hang them in the rafters to dry.
I’m going to hazard a guess that once the tobacco was about ready to go to market, the state-to-state procedure was more consistent, at least regarding sorting by color and grade. While technology exists that can assist with grading quality, I would further speculate that for small farmers, the process continues to be manual.
What have we learned since the Tobacco Wars?
I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking about it.
My level of intellectual curiosity has increased drastically in the last 20 years, and this has led to reading more history and more technical content. Between that and my experiences with Park friends, my perspective has changed. That is, I see the big picture differently than I did in my 40s. And I am not sure we (as a whole) are learning the big lessons.
- We have learned we are smart. We have sophisticated tools, without question. Tobacco farmers these days are seeing technological advances that reduce the amount of manual labor required for planting. AgriExpo, according to its website, has a machine that can even harvest the top leaves from the plant. Yep, that saves time, and certainly there are many breakthroughs of that nature. But that’s just what humans do–improve on the tools they were raised with.
I know I should have at least two bullet points if I have any at all, but I think that’s it.
Perhaps we need to work on something else. In many ways we are the same as the farmers–and the night riders–in 1906. For all our progress, we retain the human frailties that ruined the Muntz family (and others) in the early 20th century. Until you read the book, you won’t fully understand the pressures both sides were experiencing. While the night riders were the primary villains in the piece, they were surely convinced their mission was worthy. On the flip side, the independents thought they were making the right choices. But it all went south, as they say.
And that brings me to my last thoughts (yes, took me awhile this time). Here’s a quote from Carl Bard: Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.
We are all stuck with human frailty, including those who make fateful decisions. I’m glad I wasn’t forced to make the call “to pool or not to pool” and then deal with possibly catastrophic consequences. The stories of those who did should teach us a few things. Well, they should.
Brought back some “great” memories! Interesting article – thanks!
Think about everything you learned and how much it must make you appreciate the job you have now. Yes? 😉
To start, the quote by Carl Bard was a real keeper. I routinely save good quotes and immediately stole this one. Without reading the story, it seems a “join the labor union or not” story. When we lived on Dungan, there was a textile factory behind us that made hosiery. Some union (From the North, of course) made a run at organizing the plant that divided the employees and to some extent the town. Employees who refused to join were referred to as “Scabs” and subjected to egg throwing and harassment and isolation. I am not sure if dad joined or not but did hear him express that he thought people had a right to join or not to join and did not deserve the harassment. He even pointed out a “Scab’s” house to me once. Unionization was voted in and the owners promptly closed the plant and several hundred people lost their jobs.
I remember none of the drama with the hosiery mill, but I do remember it being closed awhile, then re-opening as something entirely different. Hard to anticipate the vagaries of corporate management types, huh? 😉